Today my five year old looked at me with total confidence, the kind reserved for world leaders and small children of course and announced, “Mom, you’re boring.”
Just like that. No hesitation. No remorse. I hadn’t even finished my coffee.
At first, I thought I misheard. Surely he said morning, not boring. But no! he repeated it, louder as if conducting a scientific experiment to measure the impact of emotional damage before 9 a.m.
I stood there, blinking, spoon in hand, feeling personally attacked by a person who still can’t tie his own shoes. Me? Boring? WHAT? I’m the woman who once hosted a living-room safari with paper towel binoculars. The same person who invented Pancake Animals such a culinary disaster that still deserves an award.
But apparently, I have fallen from grace. My crime? Refusing to make dinosaur noises before finishing my toast.
“Mom, you’re supposed to ROAR,” he explained, clearly disappointed in my lack of commitment to the role of T-Rex Number 2.
I tried, I really did!!! I let out what I thought was a respectable dinosaur sound like a deep, gravelly growl that came from somewhere near my soul. He stared at me totally unimpressed. “That’s not a dinosaur. That’s… weird.”
Five minutes later, I was being lectured on the correct emotional range of a prehistoric carnivore by someone still learning to count to twenty.
At this point, I realized parenthood is basically performance art with terrible reviews. You give your best but your audience will still yawn, boo or request snacks in the middle of your monologue.
I tried to defend myself “You used to think I was fun.” He shrugged. “That was when you were younger.”
Younger?!? I’m not sure if he meant last week or before breakfast but either way, I suddenly felt like I needed eye cream and a vacation.
Later, while he built a Lego city the size of a small nation, I watched him and thought to myself that maybe he’s right. Maybe I’ve been running too much on autopilot lately. Always rushing to clean, plan, manage. Maybe I have gotten a bit too serious.
Because to a five year old, fun isn’t in the schedule. It’s in the chaos, the pillow fights, the mud pies, the dancing while brushing your teeth. Somewhere between adult responsibilities and laundry loads, I may have misplaced my inner dinosaur.
So tonight, I made a secret promise: tomorrow, I’m coming back with a roar. A real one. The kind that shakes cereal bowls and makes him laugh until he forgets to breathe.
Because maybe he’s not insulting me. Maybe he’s reminding me that “boring” is just what happens when we forget that joy is noisy, silly and slightly ridiculous.
And honestly? If being boring is my current phase, then I’m ready for my comeback tour. Featuring: Mom the Magnificent, T-Rex Edition :)
Reflection for You
Maybe “boring” is just what children call peace.
Maybe it’s their way of reminding us that wonder still lives in the smallest things. A silly noise, a messy game, a moment of unfiltered joy.
So, if one day you get promoted to “boring” too, take it as your cue to roar a little louder, laugh a little harder and surprise life before it calls you predictable.
That's me here, the brown T-Rex
Continue reading the Journal:
• Journal — First Page
• The Space Between Then and Now
• Chapter I — Birth of Strength
• Sehnsucht
• Asking Myself
• Why Silence?
to Fit in the Box Anymore
At a very young age, we were all gently and sometimes firmly trained to fit neatly into a box. Parents, relatives, teachers and entire communities became architects of our behaviour. We were taught how to act, how to react and most of all, how to be acceptable.
Where I come from, good manners were not optional; they were the foundation of character. You had to move gracefully, speak respectfully and mirror perfection at all times. A young lady did not simply exist but represented her family. And representation demanded composure, silence and the art of pretending everything was fine.
Over time, the constant repetition of this behaviour turned performance into identity. It became natural to smile when tired, to apologize when right and to hide opinions behind polite nods. Psychologists would call this social conditioning: a process where the need for belonging overrides authenticity. We confuse approval with affection and compliance with peace.
One day, during Sunday school, while debating yet another religious theme, a wild thought slipped quietly into my mind. It felt unholy and almost rebellious. What if... what if I said what I actually think out loud? The question sent a strange thrill down my spine. Would they still like me? Would I be whispered about later or silently corrected with a look?
Before I could stop myself, I spoke. The cat was out of the bag and the silence that followed was priceless. Eyes widened, mouths hesitated between disapproval and disbelief. It was the most alive I had felt in years.
From that day on, I found pleasure in pushing those invisible walls. Slipping in small provocative phrases just to watch reactions ripple across faces. I called it my “little social experiment” though it was really an early study of human nature. Psychologist Solomon Asch once proved how easily people conform to group opinions even when those opinions are wrong. I was witnessing that experiment live. How silence can be louder than truth and how few dare to break it.
It became a game, one that revealed how fragile our sense of order truly is. Most people want the world to stay predictable, symmetrical and safe. The moment something challenges that symmetry, fear shows itself, often disguised as politeness. I saw it in the way conversations shifted, in the nervous laughter, in the avoidance of eye contact.
After a while, my thrill of rebellion softened into reflection. I realized I wasn’t trying to provoke for amusement anymore but was surely trying to breathe. My box had become too small and my curiosity was simply the air escaping through its cracks. Carl Jung would call this individuation (the process of becoming who we truly are by integrating the parts of ourselves we once hid to survive).
Speaking my truth wasn’t always comfortable for others. Some people drifted away, others listened only to correct me. But their discomfort taught me something vital: authenticity has a cost. You lose some company but you gain your voice. You lose approval but you find peace.
I began to understand that freedom doesn’t always look graceful. It can be messy, lonely and misunderstood but it is also the most honest place to exist. I would rather hear the naked truth a thousand times than a polite lie wrapped in good manners.
All I ever wanted was to be seen for who I truly am and definitely not for the version that pleased others. And then it dawned on me ... maybe I don’t have to fit into the silly box at all. Maybe I can belong to many or to none. Abraham Maslow believed self-actualization is the moment we stop seeking permission to be. That realization became my quiet revolution.
We are not made to be contained; we are made to expand. To evolve. To unlearn the rules that keep us small. The world prefers categories but the soul prefers contradictions such as being both light and dark, disciplined and wild, composed and curious or just all at once.
So if you ever feel misplaced or misunderstood, perhaps you were never meant to fit neatly anywhere. Maybe your edges were made to stretch beyond definitions to be able to touch many worlds at once. The beauty of becoming is not in being contained but in remaining fluid enough to grow, to unlearn and to begin again.
We are all fragments of countless selves constantly rearranging. That’s not confusion, that’s called evolution.
Reflection
When was the last time you caught yourself adjusting to meet expectations that weren’t yours?
Which parts of you are still waiting for permission to be seen?
What would happen if you stopped shrinking and allowed all your versions to exist at once unapologetically and whole?
Shop the Essence
Shop the Essence is a space devoted to quiet rituals of care with a journal of textures, scents and small gestures that nurture both skin and spirit. Here, I share thoughtful reviews and reflections on products that have become part of my own rituals or that I’ve come to know through research and trusted voices.
When I think back, my relationship with beauty began in the simplest way. As a young girl, most of the products I used came from the supermarket/Drugstore. Being totally affordable, shared by the whole family and never questioned. One good lotion could serve every purpose. I never read a single back label.
After turning eighteen, I began discovering products made specifically for women. I still wasn’t curious about what was inside them tho. I only cared about how divine they smelled. The higher the price and the more I believed in its magic. I still laugh today at how easily I was swayed by marketing and trends, believing strongly that beauty came bottled in what everyone else adored.
It wasn’t until my medical studies, when I began learning about dermatology that something quietly shifted. Understanding ingredients and their effects made me realize that beauty was as much about awareness as it was about care. Reading the back labels became second nature (a way of choosing not just for the skin but for my wellbeing).
Today, I rarely buy drugstore brands and never judge a product by its price tag. Over the past five years, I’ve developed a particular fondness for Korean skincare which feels closer to nature to me. The shorter ingredient lists, gentle formulas and an honest philosophy of consistency over luxury. For my skin, it has worked wonders.
Still, I invite you not to judge a book by its cover or a product by its origin. Many people hesitate when they see that something is made in Korea, imagining it unfamiliar or uncertain but beauty has no single language. Try for yourself, read, explore and let your own skin decide what soothes it best. Trust experience over assumption.
This page gathers the essence of that journey: reflections on products that soothe rather than dazzle, that restore rather than overwhelm. It’s about learning to relax while nurturing the skin and to see beauty not as indulgence but as harmony.
Beauty of Joseon — Glow Deep Serum
A gentle ritual of clarity infused with rice bran and alpha-arbutin for a calm and balanced glow.
There’s something almost meditative about the Beauty of Joseon Glow Deep Serum. It doesn’t demand instant transformation. Instead it whispers, layer by layer, that care can be slow and deliberate. Infused with rice bran water and alpha-arbutin, it promises radiance but what it teaches is rhythm. Every drop feels like an invitation to pause, breathe and let clarity surface.
Main Ingredients
- Rice Bran Water (68.6%) — brightens and smooths skin tone, rich in amino acids and minerals that support hydration.
- Alpha-Arbutin (2%) — a gentle brightener that helps reduce dark spots and even skin tone without irritation.
- Niacinamide & Licorice Root Extract — reinforce radiance and calm inflammation, making the complexion appear soft and luminous.
Each ingredient works like a quiet note in harmony with subtle alone, luminous together. The formula feels kind, almost thoughtful; it nourishes rather than shocks.
Texture & Experience
Lightweight and fluid, it glides on like early morning light. No perfume, no heaviness — just calm freshness. It absorbs easily, leaving skin balanced rather than sticky. Used daily, the glow feels less like shine and more like steadiness.
Symbolism in Routine
What I love about this serum is how it mirrors the process of becoming. You don’t wake up transformed; you simply notice one day that the dullness has softened. Like growth itself, brightness unfolds through small and repeated acts of care.
“Clarity, like brightness, doesn’t arrive in a burst. It builds quietly drop by drop.”
Verdict
A minimalist formula with meaningful results, perfect for those seeking steady radiance without irritation. It works gently over time, much like the emotional work of softening old habits. For sensitive or balanced skin, it’s a beautiful daily companion.
Where to Find It
🌿 Shop on YesStyle – Glow Deep Serum (Rice + Alpha-Arbutin)
Reflection
In caring for my skin, I’m learning to redefine progress in not as sudden change but as subtle evolution. The Glow Deep Serum reminds me that even the quietest routines can hold a lesson: be patient with what’s becoming luminous.
Part of the Soft Rituals Series — care that feels like becoming.
Continue the Soft Rituals series:
• Soft Rituals II — Rituals of Quiet Ease: https://her-via.blogspot.com/2025/10/soft-rituals-collection-part-ii-ritual.html
• Soft Rituals III — Rituals of Gentle Renewal: https://her-via.blogspot.com/2025/10/soft-rituals-collection-part-iii-ritual.html
How Survival Became Insight
From as far back as I can remember, I’ve been a quiet observer. Not out of shyness but out of necessity. My father’s moods could turn without warning and I learned early that the smallest change in tone, glance or posture meant something. Reading those signs became a matter of safety.
I rarely spoke yet my face betrayed me. Silence felt protective but emotion still found a way to surface. In those years I did more than hide, I studied. I watched how people behaved, what triggered their reactions and why they did the things they did. What began as survival slowly became fascination: the study of human behaviour and the invisible psychology behind every gesture.
The Body Learns to Listen
Science shows that early exposure to high stress reshapes how the body and mind respond to the world. Children who grow up in unpredictable environments often develop what psychologists call heightened vigilance (an increased sensitivity to cues of danger). Research from the National Library of Medicine explains that chronic exposure to fear alters both brain and stress-response systems, keeping the body alert even when no immediate threat exists.
Another study on vigilance found that people with a heightened alert system display more eye movements and larger pupil size even in neutral settings and the body scanning just in case. What began as my way of “reading the room” was, in fact, my nervous system’s way of staying alive.
From Survival to Curiosity
As I grew older, I started to notice that my observation skills could be used differently. What once felt like constant alertness began to shift into curiosity. I was no longer looking for danger but just looking for understanding.
Psychologists note that children who develop strong pattern recognition in tense households often become adults skilled in empathy, intuition and emotional intelligence. Awareness, once defensive, can evolve into insight. The ability to perceive unspoken emotions and motives in others.
The Double-Edge
The gift and the burden live side by side. Being highly observant helps me connect deeply with others, sense unspoken needs and notice what most people miss. But it also means my mind rarely rests and my body still remembers to be on guard.
The very skill that once protected me can now make relaxation feel foreign. It takes conscious work like breathing, journaling and reminding myself that I am safe to be able to teach my body that vigilance is no longer required. Understanding this has been part of my healing. The learning to use sensitivity without being ruled by it.
Reframing the Lens
For Her-Via, this story is more than survival. It’s about transformation. The younger version of me learned to decode danger and the present version learns to decode meaning. By giving voice to what once stayed unspoken, I turn observation into empathy and silence into narrative.
What began as fear has become focus. What once meant staying small has turned into seeing deeply. I no longer “read the room” to stay safe, I read it to understand the human story unfolding within it.
Further Reading
Suddenly, I found myself longing for the light summer wind playing through my hair, the sun’s warm rays caressing my skin and the endless shades of blue dancing before my eyes as my feet sank into fine white sand.
Am I becoming wetterabhängig, as the locals of the region like to say?
Perhaps. But what I was truly feeling was Sehnsucht. That beautiful German word used to describe longing. You can long for a person, a place, a feeling or a moment in time. Sehnsucht can capture the ache of missing something you once had or something you’ve never known at all. It’s the quiet desire for a relationship you’ve never experienced or the pull to see the ocean again after too long away. It’s that deep wish to hug someone you’ve been separated from or craving the comfort only they bring.
The word even carries Sucht—“addiction”—within it because longing can become consuming, almost obsessive, like drifting through endless daydreams. It’s that feeling when your heart wants something so deeply, yet it remains just out of reach.
My mother once told me that when I was born, it was snowing and bitterly cold outside. Yet as I grew, I loved nothing more than to run around naked and constantly resisting any attempt to dress me. I was only two years old when my family decided to migrate to a tropical place where it never snowed.
I quickly embraced the heat and sunlight, learning to feel at home by the sea—sitting for hours on the beach, whispering secret conversations to the waves, watching the horizon and dreaming about the unknown.
Years later, I returned to Europe and learned to live with the rhythm of four seasons. But because of my childhood, I often find myself searching for places that might awaken that same feeling of home. Some of the Greek islands that I visited resembled the landscapes I once knew, yet none completely satisfied that inner yearning.
In the Dominican Republic, the beaches reminded me vividly of home yet I began comparing every place I visited to my small island and in doing so, I spoiled the magic. That’s when I realized my Sehnsucht was, as in the German song, Unheilbar—incurable.
People often ask why I don’t simply return home to my island if I miss it so much. I’ve wrestled with that question for years, until one day I finally gave in and flew back for a short holiday.
There, I was swept into a storm of feelings—sadness, pain, joy and relief. Sadness, because I could have come sooner. Pain, because I faced memories of my mother, who was no longer there. Joy, from being surrounded by family. And finally, relief—the quiet peace of feeling whole again, returning to Europe with my heart full and my spirit recharged to one hundred percent.
Reflection for You
Have you ever felt Sehnsucht for a place, a person or a moment that once made you feel whole? That gentle ache of longing often reminds us of who we were and who we still are beneath the noise of everyday life.
Alexandra’s Note
For me, Sehnsucht isn’t only about missing something. It’s about remembering the pieces of myself that felt most alive,the warmth, the light, the freedom that shaped who I became.
Share Your Thoughts
What does Sehnsucht mean to you personally? Is there a place or memory that still calls you back from time to time? Feel free to share your reflections in the comments. I’d love to read them.
Continue reading the Journal:
• Journal — First Page
• The Space Between Then and Now
• Chapter I — Birth of Strength
• Mom, You're Boring
• Asking Myself
• Why Silence?
The moment I said it or thought it, the dream changed texture. It was as if I had stepped behind the curtain of my own mind and found myself both inside and outside the scene. I could feel the warmth but I could also see the illusion.
Psychologists describe this moment as lucid awareness, a rare bridge between sleep and consciousness. It occurs when parts of the brain’s prefrontal cortex—responsible for logic and self-recognition reactivate during REM sleep, the stage of vivid dreaming. According to research led by Stephen LaBerge at Stanford University, this reactivation allows the dreamer to perceive the illusion without breaking it. In such moments, the mind becomes both the creator and the observer, able to question reality while still feeling its emotions as truth. It’s as if consciousness briefly awakens within the architecture of memory and desire turning the dream into a living dialogue between science and soul.
To wake up inside a dream is more than a neurological phenomenon. It’s a metaphor for the soul’s own awakening. Psychologically, such moments often appear when the mind is ready to integrate emotion and awareness, when what we feel and what we know finally meet. To see love inside illusion, as I did, may symbolize the recognition that even our most beautiful memories can hold both truth and fantasy.
In the dream, happiness was real yet the place was not. Perhaps that is what our consciousness tries to show us: that love, grief and longing do not end but evolve shifting from form to essence. Awareness within the dream becomes a mirror of awareness in life. The courage to open our eyes gently to what is, while honoring what was.
“Sometimes, awakening doesn’t mean opening your eyes, it means realizing you’re still dreaming.”
Continue exploring Essence:
• Essence — First Page
• Reading Room in Silence
• No Intention
• How Hues Shape What We Feel, Remember, and Become
• The Day I Learned My Skin Had Emotions
• Skin — Myths vs Facts
Becoming a Mother
Some say that motherhood begins the moment you realize you are carrying new life within you. When your body starts to change and yet you find yourself looking in the mirror feeling more beautiful than ever before.
I remember longing to finally see and touch the little being I was creating but sometimes fate writes another story.
I didn’t experience a normal birth nor the instant connection I had dreamed of. Instead, I stood by an incubator staring at a small human surrounded by cables and wondering if this fragile life was truly mine. It was the greatest confusion I’ve ever known. A mix of awe, fear and disbelief.
I was terrified to hold this tiny being, yet my heart broke knowing he might never live the life I had imagined for him. Still, something extraordinary happened, my love grew deeper and more unconditional with every day.
It took time, pain and many tears to learn to accept what is and to understand that love doesn’t always bloom the way we expect it to. But when it does, it changes you forever.
Continue reading the Journal:
• Journal — First Page
• The Space Between Then and Now
• Sehnsucht
• Mom, You're Boring
• Asking Myself
• Why Silence?
I am a woman still learning what it means to be one. Not in theory but through life itself.
Through work that shapes me, motherhood that humbles me and moments of stillness that remind me to listen.
Nothing about my journey has been linear. I have grown through trial and error, through falling and rebuilding and through learning how to begin again. I’m a mother to two wonderful children who have taught me the meaning of unconditional love and courage in its purest form. As a single mother caring for a child with special needs, I’ve discovered strength in gentleness and courage in softness. Lessons no book could teach.
Professionally, I have walked paths that demanded resilience and reinvention. Personally, I have learned to give myself permission to change, to evolve, to rest and to redefine what “being enough” means.
Her-Via was born from all of this is a space to collect fragments of growth, reflection and beauty found in ordinary days. It’s where I write about what it feels like to live in motion: learning, healing, balancing and creating.
Warmly, from my path to yours,
Alexandra as Her- Via
There are days when I feel like life has been a long, winding rollercoaster, the kind that never truly stops but only slows down long enough for me to catch my breath.
I used to think that by a certain age, things would settle into shape and that I’d know who I am, what I want and where I’m going. But the truth is, becoming has been a quieter and slower process than I ever imagined. One made of pauses, relapses, small awakenings and lessons learned when I least expected them.
Change used to frighten me. I clung to the past, replayed it in my mind like a familiar melody that both comforted and caged me. But with time, I’ve learned that holding on too tightly leaves no space for what’s next. And yet, letting go isn’t easy and it’s not a single act but a series of choices we make in silence, each one a little surrender to trust.
So, here I am, writing from that in between space, where the woman I was and the woman I’m becoming meet for coffee each morning. They talk. They forgive each other. They laugh about how far they’ve come.
Maybe this is what Her-Via was always meant to be. A place for that conversation to continue.
Continue reading the Journal:
• Journal — First Page
• Chapter I — Birth of Strength
• Sehnsucht
• Mom, You're Boring
• Asking Myself
• Why Silence?
Some questions stay with us — whispered between heartbeats, shaping how we see ourselves and the world. The Quiet Dialogues is a series of reflections from Her-Via — interactive cards that invite you to pause, turn inward and rediscover the beauty within change, softness and everyday strength.
A quiet alcove within Her-Via — where words do not shout but breathe. Here, language drifts like light through water forming and dissolving, returning as reflection. I gather fragments: moments half understood, feelings that never found a home and questions that refuse tidy answers.
This gallery exists for those who linger in thought and for those who know that reflection is not stillness but motion turned inward. Each piece here began as a whisper, a trace of emotion, a curiosity that would not let go. I write not to explain but to understand and to translate the silent rhythm between experience and meaning.
In this space, words are not decoration, they are conversations. They ask, listen and change shape depending on who reads them. Some are soft as breath or others weightier but all of them human.
The Gallery of Thoughts is a sanctuary for questions that feel too fragile for noise. It is a collection of fleeting truths, the shimmer between knowing and unknowing. It invites you to stand in that in-between, to notice how silence can hold sound and how thought becomes light when you give it room to glow.
Now it’s your turn.
What question lingers in your mind today?
Let it stay for a while and listen for its quiet answer.
Continue wandering the Gallery of Thoughts:
• Soft Questions, Strong Answers
• The Quiet Dialogues
• The Shape of Quiet Mornings
• A Brainstorm on Life Philosophy
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